Into reality
by Esme Portman Rose
Summary: Bella has been stolen from the world of vampires and werewolves into the real world: reality. Now she must enlist the help of one of her many fans and the women who brought her world to life in order to get home.
1. Chapter 1

I set the books in front of her and she looked up at me questioningly. I smiled and nodded in what I hoped was an encouraging manner. She took a shaky breath and picked up the first. She held it gingerly as if it would burst into flames at any moment. I allowed her to stare a moment longer before becoming impatient.

"Read the back!" I whispered excitedly.

She glanced up at me nervously before tuning the book over and reading.

She gasped, and my smile widened.

She stared for a moment more before gently placing the book aside and swiftly scooping up the next.

She read the back, only glancing at the cover. She then moved onto the third and after that the fourth.

She slowly looked up at my smile with a million questions in her eyes.

"How…?" she began, but stopped.

"I'm not sure," I said. "But I do have a theory."

I took another book from the shelf, and laughed when I saw her expression.

"Don't worry Bella," I assured her. "This one's not about you." I looked down at the copy of Inkheart in my hands. "It's about a young girl named Meggie and her father, Mo." I met her confused stare and smiled gently. "They both have a very strange gift."

She leaned closer to me. "Are they vampires?" she whispered.

My lip twitched and I said, "No… It's complicated, but I'll try to explain."

I frowned as I searched for words that wouldn't confuse her further. "Um, when Meggie and Mo read aloud," I began, "the story comes to life." Pausing, I looked up and met her gaze. "Literally."

She scowled. "I don't understand."

I smiled, but then the frown reappeared. "Uh," I picked up the first book and opened it to a random page. "If they read, 'I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza.' Then there's a chance that apple or that bite of pizza would appear in front of them, maybe even the person speaking." I smiled a crooked grin. "You, Bella. I think I read you out of your story."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_I think I read you out of your story._

She ducked her head and I could feel her doubt, even though her face was hidden.

"If someone told you about vampires a year ago, your reaction would be the same," I stated.

There was a moment of silence before her head snapped up and she stared at me accusingly.

"Why?" she whispered harshly.

"Why?" I scowled, confused.

"Why did you tear me away from…from my home!" she finally spluttered.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, finally understanding. "You think I brought you here on purpose?"

"Yes. That's what you said."

"No, I said I brought you here, not that I intended to."

"An accident?" she asked.

"An accident," I repeated firmly.

She ducked her head before returning her eyes to me and whispering, "Is there no hope then? Am I stuck here forever?" her voice broke on the last word.

"Well, "I said hesitantly. "It's not _necessarily_ hopeless."

She wasn't convinced.

"It will be difficult, but," my voice turned falsely optimistic, "nothing is impossible!"

Her expression was still dismal.

"How?" she asked.

"How do I get you home?"

She nodded.

"Well, I'm not quite sure,"

All the while I was straining to stay cheerful and optimistic, but I wasn't fooling her; she was much too perceptive.

"In the book there was a writer with a talent of arranging the words perfectly designed to read a character back into their book. Unfortunately, Cornelia Funke never completely explained how this was done."

Her brown eyes were agonized as she stared at me; tears were forming.

"Now what?" I muttered to nobody. "Well, maybe I could try it. I used to write a little"

Her features immediately brightened.

"You'll try? For me?"

"Yes, but I can't make any promises."

I placed my books on their shelves and removed my dusty writing notebook.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Stephenie Meyer made this too easy for me," I said, jokingly. "Everything I try seems like it should work. I hope it does."

"Yeah," she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Who's Stephenie Meyer?"

"You don't know?" I said with a rush of surprise. "You can't know that, I guess. Did you not notice the name on all those books?" I said, teasing lightheartedly, and then becoming serious. "She wrote your story, Bella. Stephenie Meyer created you."

"Oh," She said simply. "What's she like?"

I thought for a moment. "Well, from what I can tell she's warmhearted and humorous, creative and loving. And to many, including myself, the most gifted writer of our time."

The passion behind my words was obvious to her.

"She sounds wonderful."  
"She is," I said to myself, not really paying attention. "Have you met her?" she asked, snapping me out of my muse.

"Met her?" I said astonished at her ignorance. "No! Of course I haven't! She's like the president of literature, or something!"

"President?" She smiled, her eyes twinkling.

"Something like that," I said smiling back.

There was a comfortable silence before I said, "I've got only a little left, but it's getting late. You go to bed and I'll try to finish. We can try in the morning."

**The next morning…**

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded and I guessed she didn't trust her voice to stay steady.

"Okay, I figure I'll try the best one first so then there's a better chance that none of you gets left behind. That can happen, ya know. A character left their voice behind once. I-"

"Emma," she gently interrupted me, "You're ranting."

"Oh!' I said. "I-"

"No, stop," she interrupted me again. "Let me finish." She looked down and then looked up at me. "I wanted to say thank you. If someone else had found me wandering aimlessly through their house, they would have turned me out onto the street."

I chuckled. "It's a good thing I saw that scar on your hand, or I might have.

She smiled and we each enjoyed the moment but for two different reasons.

Me enjoying her departure being put off just minute longer. She savoring the excitement high of nearly being home.

It killed me to break the silence, but I knew it had to be done.

"Shall we do this thing?" I asked her, and smiled when she exuberantly shouted,

"Yes!"

I took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes.

I fingered the papers in my hands.

She smiled faintly, and whispered one name, "Edward."

I read aloud and prayed silently.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I spoke the last word.

I closed my eyes.

I didn't want to see if my last chance had fallen through as the others had.

A moment passed.

The silence was punctured by a depressed sigh.

I looked up in time to see a single tear slide down her check.

She slowly stood up from where we were sitting and made her way to the guest bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

I internally debated following her, but the "leave her alone" side won out. I knew she needed time to herself. Time to cry herself out. Time to heal. The one she needed the most was not me, and I didn't dare fetch him from his pages. I had done all I could to help her. My heart and soul had gone into trying to get her back where she belonged. I had nothing more to give, and I hated myself for that.

Hours passed and I still sat. My head was spinning, rotating around several feelings. Anger at failure. Pity for the poor creature I could hear sobbing through the thin wood door. Joy at keeping her a little longer. And finally shame at feeling this way.

Everything was silent except for the hum of the AC.

The small silence was broken by my stomach growling and I realized how late it really was. I stiffly pulled myself up from the couch, and made my way to the thin door. I reached for the knob but it turned before I touched it.

Her eyes were read and wet with tears. Her checks flushed and also damp.

She bit down on her trembling lip as I took her hand and pulled her along with me to the kitchen.

We ate in silence. Or rather _I_ ate. Her food remained untouched.

The hush continued as I cleaned up, and then sat down at the table again.

Our eyes met and she began to lose it. She jumped up and ran for the bedroom. I followed her to where she lay; face down, on the bed.

Her sobbing was only slightly muffled by the damp comforter.

I am not sure how long I sat there, rubbing her back and cooing comforting words.

But it did end. The tears stopped flowing, and her breathing went from choppy to calm.

She was asleep.

I smiled crookedly, and squinted at my watch.

_Crap,_ I thought. It was only seven.

I knew I needed to sleep, despite the time, but my head was too occupied. I decided housework would keep me busy.

The floors were swept and mopped; the kitchen cleaned twice over; and every room dusted and meticulously tidied.

I was scrubbing the shower tiles when I heard the squeak of running feet over wooden floor boards. She raced down the hall and slid to a stop when she reached the bathroom. I looked up, startled.

She forced the words out between pants. "Emma!... Emma!" she said, regaining a little of her breath.

I stood. "Bella!? What's wrong!?" panic was building in my chest. "What's wrong!? Tell me!"

She was smiling. "Nothing, Emma!... Everything is wonderful;… great!"

"What are you talking about, Bella? What's great?"

She took my hands and her grin grew wider. "I know what to do! Emma, I know how to get home!"


End file.
